Understanding EmotionsA Hunter's Guide to Survive
by Emily 'Gadget' Robins
Summary: Oh what a good hunter he was. Never seen, never heard, never caught in the line of fire until that perfect moment. It was like he knew what they thought, the emotions they went through. Fear, separation, exhaustion, he used everything against his prey. NC
1. Thrill of the Kill

Chapter One;

The Thrill of the Kill

The world had fallen to chaos. As the world fell into the clawed hands of the un-dead; human kind was reduced to a few desperate Survivors in the fray and a few million in safe houses across the world's major continents. Families were ripped apart at the seams and the billions of American citizens were suddenly reduced to a few hundred thousand rag-tag fighters. The smoke of hundreds of fires rose to the sky and gathered in massive black plumes. The 'zombies', as the survivors had deemed them, were everywhere.

There were the common and the uncommon. The commons stumbled about with no direction or literate thought, just waiting for some form of living creature to wander by and be torn apart. The uncommons were a bit more clever, setting traps where buildings allowed them room to and gathering in numbers. Either way they all waited for the same thing. A kill.

One strain of the uncommon was called the Hunter by some, Predator by others, Hooded-thing by even more, and maybe even those crazy emo kids with the scream. They were the terror to the uninfected and wrecked havoc on all who crossed their path. It was almost impossible to avoid them.

Those who were changed into them had it even worse than those who were hunted.

#########

He gazed down at clawed hands. Confused he slowly flexed the razor-like fingers, watching them move. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. Things would never be the same. Things couldn't ever been the same. He hurt all over. Groaning in pain and leaning against the nearby brick wall he balled the hands into fists. What was happening? One moment there was darkness and then there was pain and colors and light and noise and a rotting smell. Before the darkness there had been…nothing he guessed. And after everything hurt. Every noise hurt his mind. The colors practically blinded him. The light felt like it was melting his skin. The smell was foul and he couldn't stand it.

His fists began to shake as the pain intensified. The groan turned to a high-pitched shriek. Then the shriek faded into a soft whimper. Blinking he turned his head slowly, ignoring the new waves of white-hot pain. He was alone. He could smell others close by, but they didn't matter. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet, relying heavily on the wall for support. His legs shook as he took one step after another. His whole body argued with each movement. His lungs threatened to give up as he stumbled along. Panting and struggling the figure finally reached the shade of a peculiar green box. Sinking back down to his knees and letting his muscles all relax the newly created 'un-dead' slumped over.

The darkened eyes slid shut as the breathing slowed to short puffs of air. The hands slowly unclenched and relaxed. The neck lolled to the side, the owner enjoying the relief shade brought. Without the light he could think straight. Blinking back to reality the creature tried to make sense of things. If the coolness of the darker areas were what it took to help him get through movements then he'd have to bring it with him. Glancing at the box again he knew he couldn't bring the shade with him. Feeling a bit distraught he sighed, thinking hard.

There had to be something to help…

Looking about himself, the 'zombie' spotted a rectangular hole in the brick wall that was within the reach of the shadows. Struggling to his feet he scrambled over to the hole and looked in. MORE darkness. With a happy growl tugging at his lips he slipped in. His eyes no longer hurt and his skin quit burning. Without the bright colors he could focus. The smell was worse, but he would gladly trade that for the comfort of the shadows. Resting again he let his eyes adjust.

He saw everything clearly from his resting place. All kinds of clutter were strewn about, but that didn't interest the creature. What caught his attention was another hole like the last one. If the first one had caused comfort then another may eliminate the pain completely.

One last time, struggling to his feet and hobbling over to the opening, poking his neck around the corner, looking in, and observing the scene: Vaguely familiar bits of things were hanging in the tiny place beyond the hole. Not knowing why, he reached out and closed his hand around one of the things. It was soft and almost comforting. Giving the object a good yank he was pleased and a bit surprised to find it in his hand and no longer attached to the top of the little place.

Examining the object a deep part of his instincts told him this was the answer he'd searched for. Without thinking he hooked a claw through the metal on the front and pulled down.

THREE DAYS LATER

The human was far ahead. That didn't bother the creature in the slightest. In fact, it only made him enjoy the hunt more. Dropping to all fours and rocketing ahead would place him and his prey face to face. But he would wait. Oh would he wait.

The commoners were giving the prey such a hard time that the predator was beginning to worry about the chances of getting a meal. But then the human threw something and those pests chased after the blinking object. The hunter had to fight off the urge to scream at them for being so mindless. It didn't matter though. They were all too ignorant to listen anyways. Still he waited.

The human staggered forward, coming closer. Just the smell of the prey's blood was driving the hunter to just jump now and take him out. 'Just go!' His instincts screamed. 'The prey is weak! Kill now!' But what fun was there in jumping weak prey? The hunter still waited.

It was there… it was RIGHT in front of his hiding place on the top of a roof. Just a jump would have the thing at his mercy—or lack there of. But he waited longer.

NOW! The prey was running now. Fast. It's back was turned and it's strength had returned for a while. Now the hooded creature dropped to all fours and charged ahead noiselessly. Several other attacks had taught him to keep silent and swift. Shrieking his battle cry ruined all surprise. It was far more fun to take the prey out before it even knew what was happening.

Leaping through the air with one last powerful surge to his legs had the hunter taking out the prey. With another sick scream he plunged his great hands into the prey, ripping and tearing ruthlessly. The prey screamed. The prey tried to fight. That did the human no good, the predator was far too powerful and the prey far too weak.

After killing the human the hunter sank back on his haunches, chest rising and falling in great breathy pants. Feeling a bit tired; the creature ate slowly, letting the thrill of the kill sink in.

Totally rejuvenated by the kill the hunter rose to two legs and sauntered off, leaving whatever scraps behind for the commoners.

He wasn't sure of where he was going. He hadn't been sure for the past bit of his life. Three times the sun had disappeared and reappeared and still it seemed like it was just his first day. There hadn't been need for sleep and there hadn't been need to stop, so why should he?

Now it was different. His muscular legs ached and the wonderful hood he had above his head was bloodied from the previous kill. His hands were sore. His eyes were tired. It was time to rest.

The nearby hole in the wall would do. He slipped in and curled up beneath the window. Tired and satisfied with the past kill, the hunter let himself rest.

Tomorrow would bring more.

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Yayy!

Mmkay there's the first chap of my first L4D fiction.

If you don't review, I don't continue;

Simple as that.

If you DO review a lot then we'll get along just fine :D


	2. Curiosity Killed the Witch After All

Chapter Two;

Curiosity Killed the Cat After All

Human kind was quickly losing the battle to save the world. The infected raged everywhere. There were few places for shelter. The clawed hands of the 'undead' were clenching at humanity's throat. The hold was not going to let up soon.

Across America the Infection had spread like wildfire. Over the two weeks since the first 'zombie outbreak' was recorded in the US it had stretched across the whole Eastern border.

It was quickly working its way West.

#########

He blinked lazily, hissing at the unwelcomed bout of sunlight. Arms stiff and lungs aching the Hunter pulled himself into a standing position. How long had he been unaware of the world around him? When he'd fallen asleep it was only beginning to become dark, and now he was pulling his hood farther down to hide from the sun. He must've been more exhausted than he thought.

No matter. He liked hunting at night anyways.

Taking off at a leisurely pace the creature decided to look through the rest of the building before going further. The pain lessened as he moved but didn't completely go away. He didn't expect it to, after all it hadn't ever since he'd first came to awarness. Why should it leave him be now?

His shoulders popped as he shrugged the stiffness away, walking unsteadily in an upright position. Crawling didn't seem all that appealing. Through a hole in the wall and up some uneven ground the hunter found himself faced with two directions to chose from.

To the right there was a single door. To the left there were four.

Deciding to flush out any humans he turned left.

Pushing the door open, he froze in his tracks. Eyes wide and arms shaking he observed the scene.

A woman sat on the floor; knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging them closer, shoulders shaking with sobs, blonde hair masking his view of her face.

The hunter felt sick. He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to get away from the sobbing creature. He wanted to get so far away that he would collapse from exhaustion.

And at the same time…he was curious.

Dropping to all fours noiselessly he crawled forward. The woman continued to cry ceaselessly. He was mere inches from the girl. She didn't notice. He could see claws far larger than his own were extended from her fingers. Her skin was milky white.

Drawing closer, the Hunter held his breath against the sickly-sweet smell of blood that wafted from her. He could see her closed eyes, her tear soaked cheeks, her bloody chin, her almost white eyelashes and brow. He wondered what her skin felt like. Was it soft and warm or cold and unyeilding? Was she strong or as feeble as she looked? What was she crying for? What was there to be upset about?

Unable to resist, the Hunter lifted a clawed palm to touch the woman's arm. His knuckles just barely brushed the wonderfully warm skin when her eyes snapped open. Large, angry, glowing, blood red eyes. A horrible scream echoed from the once sobbing lips. The Hunter scrambled backwards, whining and screeching in anger. The woman rose to her feet, swiping at him. He lept away and crashed into the doorframe. She screamed again and lashed out, clipping the tips of her claws against his torso.

White hot pain seared through the Hunters body and he screamed louder, counter attacking. In a blood-thirsty rage he turned the woman to shreds of gore and blood and bits of marrow. He didn't stop until there was almost nothing left. When he did stop he just stood and stared.

The first sane thought he'd ever had (to his knowledge) ran through his mind:

_**What did I just do?**_

Panic. Sheer panic began to flow through him. He stared at his claws, remembering what her skin felt like. _**So alive. Still there. Still…sane?**_ Was her sorrow for so much more? What was out there before he was?

Sick. He gazed at her remains. _**What the heck? NO!**_ This wasn't real. She'd never been there. The Hunter staggered back a few steps. What had she been thinking? Was she scared? Was her anger really fear? Why would she fear him? He doubled over and vomited loudly, his stomach emptying itself of it's meager contents.

He slammed the door shut, locking the remnants inside. His stomach threatened to empty itself again. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. WHY? Why had he done that? He hadn't had a single concious thought. With everything else it had been by choice. Every time he took down a human it had been to get food. He could've escaped just by running. He could've slammed the door. He could've just left her alone.

_**Why? Why…why...why why why why WHY?**_ It didn't make sense. It never could.

He vomitted again. Not even bothering to straighten up this time he let everything out. He could feel her sticky blood on his face and clothing. He knew he was spattered with it.

There was no guilt. He didn't feel bad for killing her. Heck, he felt no emotion towards whatever it was that he'd just killed. All he could focus on was the way he'd moved without thought. Without reason. Without drive. It disturbed him.

His stomach kept heaving but nothing more came up with the violent convulsions. The swirling emotions calmed just enough for him to focus on movement. He shouldered his way into the next room, not caring what could be in it. It was void of anything. No 'undead', dead, or human resided in the room. No funiture or windows. It was so welcome.

He fell to the floor and let his breathing calm down. His chest hurt. He looked down and shuddered. His own darkened blood was oozing all over his hoodie. Ignoring the pain for the time being, the Hunter focused on what he'd just gone through.

Panic; all right. He could definitely use that on the hunt. Maybe the prey would reclessly respond but once he learned how it would he could take it down without effort while they were frozen in fear.

Sickness; if he could appeal to that emotion, he could render the human unprotected in a moment of surprise and disgust. He could strike while they were distracted.

Curiosity; a well placed decoy could work to his advantage. He could lure them in and devour them while they were otherwise occupied.

Shivering slightly from pain and leftover panic the Hunter curled himself into a tight ball. He didn't cry or show any emotions from the outside. In his head he was slowly sifting through who he was.

All he could remember was the sudden awareness. There HAD to be something before this. There HAD to be something better than…_this_.

He groaned. Unable to sleep and unable to calm himself he lay spread eagled on the floor. His breath was ragged and strained due to the injuries. His shoulders shook with each gasp. The exhales sounded scratchy like they were rattling around in his throat.

Unable to stand being motionless anymore and unable to think of any more ways to use the newfound emotions, the Hunter straightened up. Miraculously he was able to steady himself, even with the gashes quickly draining him of blood.

The Hunter slipped out the door and across the hall, entering another opening in the wall. Resting in the opening's edge, he looked over the room. Papers plastered the walls, advertising words in bright red. Words he could no longer understand. Almost angry with the room for not being interesting at all the infected began to turn away…then something caught his eye;

A small bit of fuzz on the floor…

It was dark in color and curly. He dropped into a crouch, holding a palm to his wounds, and crawled towards the thing. Running his claw-tips over the fuzz, he discovered it was soft. Almost like his hair and the comforting hoodie around him. Scratching around in the fuzz he tried to think of how the thing looked familiar.

No such luck befell him. So, he just stood and turned to leave once more. The plushy thing had gotten caught on his claw and something followed his rising form. It bounced off of his leg and shocked him into freezing.

Confused and aghast by whatever it was the hunter flung his arm around feebly, trying to free his claws from the fuzz.

Growling feraly he held the offending hand up to examine. A tiny cloth figure in the likeness of a human dangled from his talons. Stunned, he used the pal of his free hand to lift the toy further. The blood on his fingers covered the figurine in brownish red liquid. He looked over every aspect of the doll; Raven black hair and carefully stitched blue eyes, neatly drawn eyebrows, a handmade orange dress, and black knitted socks. It wasn't a very large object but somehow it was painstakingly familiar.

Not at all perturbed the hunter closed his claws, tearing through the nicely made doll. It fell in ribbons of torn cloth and soft stuffing. That was rather familiar too.

Shaking off the last remnants of the doll he continued into the halway.

He headed back to the stairwell, glancing down the dark descent before scampering into the last room. He froze.

Another Hunter stood totally stiff and staring back at him, just on the other side of the room. It was hunched over at the shoulders, bleeding heavily, panting in great heaves. The first hunter stumbled backwards at the same moment as the second and they both crashed into the walls on either side of the room.

And so they stood. Just gazing in shock. The second hunter made no move to attack. So he wondered if he should take the advantage. Stike now. Take down the enemy.

Then something occurred to him.

The other hunter moved at the same moments, the same way, didn't make any noise, and had a matching wound. It was him!

Just a reflection. He calmed his nerves and examined himself.

He was, in a word, grotesque.

Grime caked his cheeks and his clothing was covered in several coats of blood. His hoodie was ripped; torn to show blackish blood dripping from his injury. He winced and held up his hands. Even from a distance the claws gleamed with the red liquid from the witch and tiny bits of the doll still clung to the razor sharp edges.

Drawing closer to the mirror image he examined his face up close. Gray skin stretched over sallow cheeks and his eyes seemed to sink too far back into his head. The eyes themselves were a cloudy blue that almost seemed white. The whites around the irises were bloodshot and his pupils were mere pinpoints, giving him a crazed look.

His reflection confused him and sparked intrigue, but there was no panick or surprise at the view of such a demonic appearance.

Shrugging and wiping some of the blood from his face with the back of his hand he turned away from the mirror image and left the tiled white room. Heading back to the empty room the hunter unzipped his hood and carefully removed it, dropping it to the floor

Then he eased the sweat stained under shirt up and over his head, letting it follow suit with the hoodie.

Dropping to all fours and covering the distance from the empty room to the tiled one, the creature reminded himself, 'Easy now…No need to injure yourself further.'

He looked at the mirror image. Then turned away, disgusted with the wounds glaring back at him. Growling darkly at the memory of the crying woman, he wiped the blood away with dirty hands. It hurt more than just letting the injury bleed.

Screeching and baring his teeth the hunter looked frantically around the tiled room for relief. A soft piece of cloth hung over a cracked glass door and he snatched it up. He pressed the white cloth to his chest, still screeching and whimpering in pain.

"Hnnnnnn…" He slowly calmed the shaking and screeching enough to look at the now bloodstained cloth…then pressed it against himself again, holding his breath against the stench of infected blood.

After what seemed like an eternity later the bleeding ceased and the hunter let the towel drop with a sickening splat.

Too tired to care he kicked it away and staggered to the empty room.

He dropped to the floor with a loud thud and fell asleep in seconds, drained both physically and mentally.

**#*#*#*#*#*#*#*#*##**

And that's chapter two :D

Thanks to the reviewers, please keep sending those in! This story has already taken a turn for the better and the plot is about to take off.

If I get no reviews then the story will suffer from lack of inspiration.


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